Clearing a path of thorns

Amid the vibrant chaos of the echoing hallways, the school clinic stands as a quiet sanctuary. Here, Dr. Shao is an anchor and her mind a compass, gently guiding each  worried heartbeat back to a steady, familiar rhythm.

I still remember the first time I came to her. It was a rainy night; a cannonball seemed to attack my head incessantly. With a blurred, almost hallucinatory vision, I stumbled to the wellness center. Dr. Shao was already packing her bag, but she immediately put down everything and ran to see me. I was suffering from a severe migraine. She gave me a painkiller, let me rest briefly, and called my parent to take me to the hospital. Everything was done in 15 minutes. I blinked my eyes, trying to trace out her face from my spotted vision; she looked worrisome, but caring and full of warmth – so soothing it alleviated my fears.

Wearing a white coat, pure and untarnished, she sat in front of her computer, feverishly typing on the keyboard, fully absorbed in work. I quietly and meticulously stepped into her office. “Long time no see,” she greeted me with her usual, soothing smile.

“Not a migraine again?” “Not this time!” We laughed together heartily.

“Quick” and “accurate”—this is how Dr. Shao works every day: diagnose “accurate[ly]” and conduct first aid treatment “quick[ly].”

The infirmary bustled during sports competitions. Dr. Shao’s thoughts went back to an SSSA football game that took place a year ago. On the pitch, a player threw himself into the air, and accurately struck the ball into the goal with a splendid overhead kick. The crowd exploded into an ecstatic frenzy, then united into a single, deafening roar. But at this exhilarating moment, the triumphant player slammed forcefully onto the ground on his side.

“We rushed to him,” she recollected, “We previously thought a wheelchair would suffice since it was just an arm injury. But he was lying on the ground in inexpressible pain, unable to move at all.”

It was really a heart-wrenching scene. “It was an open humeral fracture,” she explained, “where the bone pierced through the flesh and was plainly exposed through the skin. The student was pale as chalk, and beads of sweat dripped down.”

A ripple of worry spread across Dr. Shao’s countenance while she recalled the story – time alone was unable to wash away the forceful impact the experience had pounded on her.

Dr. Shao and her colleagues efficiently and immaculately provided first aid and bandaged the wound – professional to the extent that when the ambulance came, “the medical staff praised the treatment and claimed that another treatment on the ambulance wouldn’t be necessary.” At this point, Dr. Shao’s voice carried a solemn self-assurance. Achieving this level of proficiency in such emergencies must require years of industrious study and practice.

Dr. Shao was fond of Physiology and Medicine ever since high school. “Biology has always been my strongest subject when studying,” she said. “But don’t choose to study medicine in college lightly, because it’s really, really difficult. And life became even harder after I finally stepped into the career of a doctor. There were no holidays, and sometimes a surgery passes through the whole night.” Being a doctor is indeed a dual test of physical and mental strength.

What made her keep going was her passionate love for the profession. “I want to be a good doctor. I want to help people whenever they are in need. It makes me feel good when others feel better.”

A staccato of knocking diffracted into the clinic room. A nurse in sky-blue came in; behind her was a student waiting. I stood up and cleared the way, lost in thought of Dr. Shao’s life – relentlessly breaking through brambles and thorns.